Moments In Time
by somandalicious
Summary: A series of drabbles and shorties that were written for a challenge. Draco and Hermione and unfinished.
1. Arms of His

Title: Arms of His  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 550  
Prompt: Writer's Choice Arms  
Number of Theme's Completed: 12:100  
Rating: G  
Characters: Your Mom and Jaclyn's Dad.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. Thanks for reminding me.

**Arms of His**

Draco Malfoy always felt his arms had a higher purpose. A special duty other than connecting his broad shoulders to his long-fingered hands.

When he was younger and attended Hogwarts, he honestly believed they were for reaching further than Harry Potter for the snitch. Fast and striking, like a biting serpent. So powerful and sinewy; a true force to be reckoned with. Although he never once beat Potter to the prize in a match, Draco still had faith in his long, aristocratic and athletic appendages.

As a soldier of the Order in the second war of Light versus Dark, he supposed that his arms wielded the magic to fight Death Eaters. He could stretch his left arm, point the wooden conductor and wordlessly cast a strong curse with little effort. Maybe the magic was really in his heart and soul, but he liked to think it was not. Mostly because it helped him cope with the losses and grief he caused.

However, since he matured, he wondered if they were really nothing more than flesh, bone and blood. Simply another part of his anatomy.

And they were lonely.

Draco Malfoy was not lonely. Oh no. Just his arms. They no longer had use, and craved something to reach for. To have. To hold. A yearning that could hardly be explained. Strangely, they wanted one particular witch. One beautiful, bushy-headed, all-knowing witch. Hermione Granger.

Draco could not comprehend it at all. It was a burning need. A sharp tingle that ran through his veins, twisting, turning, and making his fingertips itch to have her. Stifling and choking, and he just knew if she would allow his arms to wrap around her supple, curvy, petite form, he could breathe again.

His arms were so desperate for her they nearly moved of their own accord. Awkwardly, much to his chagrin, because they caused him to act foolishly in her presence. He would knock over glasses, fall over knick-knacks, and make him appear altogether and completely absurd.

It became apparent that his arms would force him to do the one thing a Malfoy never did. Beg. Because merely asking Hermione Granger for something simple like a hug was silly and strange. Besides, he knew that his arms desired more of her than that. They wanted to hold on to her forever, and never let her go. Ever. 'Til death do they part.

So he told her all of this and more. He explained carefully that he needed her to hold, to be his little witch, his lover, but she had to treat him right. And he also stated at great length that he believed his arms were designed for the sole purpose of wrapping around her. For the rest of his life.

She studied him quietly. Her brown eyes large and critical, and she chewed on the left corner of her full bottom lip. Deciding, calculating, weighing the outcome. While his arms screamed impatiently for her to speak.

But she never did. Instead she smirked impishly, eyes suddenly dancing, sparkling, and threw her little, soft body at him, coming flush against his long frame, and she wrapped her warm loving arms tight around him.

His arms were finally satisfied. They fulfilled their destiny.

And Draco soon realized he needed her tender lips just as much.

A/N: Me lika da feedback. A lot. It's like sunshine on all my rainy days. Honest. Oh and Otis Redding's "These Arms of Mine" totally inspired this fic.


	2. Breezes

Title: Untitled  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 528  
Prompt: Breeze  
Number of Theme's Completed: 8:100  
Rating: G  
Characters: Wizarding Britain's Hottest Couple. Dee slash Eyche Arr.  
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing but my four year old.

It was truly unfair, that the wind would be so lucky to entwine its invisible fingers through that lovely hair. Hair that shone golden and sparkly in the summer sun. Much similar to champagne. Where I only sat by to merely bear witness, as I was unable to reach out my hand to those brilliant strands of platinum. It was forbidden and unwanted.

Unjust was life that a forceful gust was allowed to envelop his long, lean frame. To kiss and caress each angle and plane. To help propel him to greater heights. Where I was only permitted to watch enviously and wish I had the chance to explore that amazing body.

Unlucky was my bloodline because a zephyr was more likely to embrace him and leave him breathless and excited. To make him feel flustered and free. Comforted and yet, surprised. My worthless arms would never enjoy the opportunity.

Unmerited that the lightest wafts were able to smooth across that lovely alabaster skin. Cooling it, tasting it, feeling it. Soft and unadulterated. My poor, ink stained fingers would never know the touch of that brilliant pallor.

I often wondered how he allowed such pleasure to come from something so simple. So unavoidable. But he did. He relished it. I knew, because it was the only time I truly saw him for what he was really like. Not that snarky, hateful young man that tormented and ridiculed myself and my friends. He became a happy, warm, carefree wizard, full of life and wonder. It was as if he became the very definition of good. Graced by the Divine One. A whimsical angel, if you will. How could I not be jealous of the gentle wind? It was allowed to do all the things I only dreamed about.

I tried to catch his eye the way any normal teenage witch would. Using my natural charms and assets to entice him, but to no avail. I even considered a love potion, but knew that I wanted him of his own accord. To give himself freely to me, exactly how he did to the breeze. Nothing seemed to work. I would always be filthy, unworthy, and disgusting to him. Because I represented everything he was taught to resent.

He could love the wind though. Without scorn, without loss, and without restriction. Each gust from the four corners of the wide earth could soar against his person shamelessly, liberally, and joyously. Bringing him to a different plane of happiness that no one could ever achieve.

Unfair. Unjust. Unlucky. Unmerited.

There was nothing left to do. I should give up on my irresponsible heart, and not waste a pretty on what I can never have. But I know I will always covet what the wind gets. Until my dying day. This I know, regrettably. It is uncontrollable, after all. Love is blind, yeah? It is also unconditional, but I have not yet reach that level of enlightenment.

So I, Hermione Granger, wanted nothing more in life, than to be a simple warm breeze, so I could know all the wonders of Draco Malfoy. Do you blame me? Wouldn't you?

Of course not. Naturally


	3. I'm On Fire

Title: Choices  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 552  
Theme: Fire  
Number of Theme's Completed: 7:100  
Rating: pg  
Characters: Draco and Hermione  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Draco settled his broom down just outside the large house, and took a long look at its architecture. She was home; he saw her silhouette in the upstairs window. His mouth thinned with disappointment and relief. Twisted, contradictory emotions. He could beckon her safely for conversation, if he had the guts, because her husband was away. The fool. Didn't Weasley realize that she deserved to have the comfort and protection of a man with her, to put her to sleep? To let her know that there was no other place in the world he'd rather be than her arms? Yes, Weasley had always been a fool. However, she did choose him, and Draco knew that she would never regret her choice. Even if that choice left her home alone more often than not.

Draco wondered though, why she did choose Weasley. Was he good to her? On the surface, he seemed to be. But Draco speculated what kind of man would marry a magnificent woman, and then abandoned her. Men like his father, perhaps. Lucius did it, and Draco saw how his mother suffered. He did not want that for Hermione. But it had been her choice. As he kept telling himself. It barely numbed the pain, so he kept repeating the mantra. It was her choice.

He smirked slightly when he saw her shadow toss the curls after she pulled the night gown over her head. He'd wondered if Weasley could do the things to her that Draco could. Make her feel that passion. Smoldering heat and need. That festered inside him still. If Weasley could, Draco bet all the galleons in his vault that Draco could take her higher. He just knew it. Nothing could compare to the deflagration of their love-making.

He needed her. That was most undeniably not his choice. He thought he could move on. Let her be. Find those feelings of love and unity with someone else. But it was not so. He lived in agony. A bottomless, dull, ragged pain that coursed through the middle of his soul. Dragging and heavy. Burning his insides. Causing him to awaken in a state of panic, his body intolerably hot, and his sheets soaked from sweat, and his skull throbbing with the urgency of a train. Loud and consuming.

This is what brought him here. She was unhappy, unloved, and uncertain. Just as he was. So he took the chance to tell her all the things he didn't when he had her. If he gained nothing but a piece of mind, then so be it. So Draco took slow steps to the door, reached toward the glowing bell and paused.

No, he couldn't bear more rejection, and he couldn't stand to cause her more heartache. He'd leave her be. Even if that meant he spent his life in a devouring inferno of crushing, passionate, unrequited love for her.

From his pocket he pulled a small green box. He placed it on the welcome mat before he flew away. It would be her choice. Again.

The next day, Hermione opened the small box to reveal a torn piece of parchment with three words scratched across in tormented penmanship. A simple phrase that fueled smoldering embers deep in her heart. And she knew what she had to do.

_I'm on fire.___

a/n: This drabble was greatly influenced by the song "I'm On Fire" by the Boss, Bruce Springsteen. Naturally.


	4. Infatuated

Title: Infatuated  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 733  
Theme: Writer's Choice Infatuate  
Number of Theme's Completed: 4:100  
Rating: G  
Characters: Draco and Hermione, naturally.  
Disclaimer:I do not own anything in the Harry Potter Universe, but six worn copies. 

**Infatuated**

It was not as if Draco had meant for it to happen. But it did nonetheless. Hermione Granger was an enigma and all he wanted to do was figure her out. It began as a way to destroy Potter. Simply. Only.

One could think of it as a reconnaissance assignment. Draco would learn the politics of the Trio, therefore comprehending his enemy better and ultimately leading to obliterating the Wizarding Hero from the inside. At the core. Because Harry loved. It was his ultimate weapon and he adored Ronald and Hermione above all else.

Weasley was easy; he was nothing more than comic relief of course, perhaps a comfort companion at best, but nothing more. But Granger, she was the brain of their small organization. This resulted in more time spent leaning the way her mind worked and what motivated her actions. Without her, Potter's agenda would be faulty and messy. So Draco knew that the girl needed to be disposed of. However, she was too clever and logical to fall for any of Draco's plans. He could only study her and try to discover her Achilles Heel.

Yet, somehow, Draco fell. Into what, he was not sure. It was certainly not love, no longer hate, but an ideal he could not fathom.

It started in his gut. Swirling. Fluttering. Then traveled to his chest, which swelled and tightened. Leaving him needy and dizzy. Vulnerable. Draco knew he would never be satisfied until he knew every meter of her. Mind, body, and soul.

He often wondered what that feral mass of chestnut curls smelt like. Lavender? Lemon? Perhaps mimosa? And what of her skin? Would it feel like silk or of the softest woven cotton? How many different smiles did she have? Oh, but those smiles. It was the only moment she was truly beautiful and he wished he had the opportunity to evict one on his own accord. Blast, he had ruined those chances long ago. Besides, every time he came near her, he felt so weak that the only defense he could muster was snarky remarks laced with arrogance.

She swung her arms when she walked. Unless they were loaded with heavy books. All different genre's of books. Ones for researching defensive spells and potions. A few for Wizarding laws and their history. Every once in a while it would be a book for pleasure. Muggle or Wizarding. Fiction or Non-fiction. It did not matter, she liked to read everything. He could not understand how she found entertainment, but she did, for hours on end. She had a special smile for reading. Draco named it Whimsy.

She was intolerable bossy, but always gave in to Potter and Weasley's antics. No matter how absurd, or silly, or vulgar even. She would always participate. Softly correcting and firmly chastising. And the limey bastards always tried to impress her with the smallest and trivial ideas. There was a smile for her friends. He called it a travesty, but named it Loyalty.

Hermione Granger knew 296 ways to straighten and control her hair. She had a shoebox full of muggle cosmetics and an array of potions and creams. They were all stashed in her wardrobe and left untouched. Instead she admired herself as she was. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, exactly as her creator designed. And she loved it that way. Thus the smile she wore for that was named Modesty.

Any and all persons of authority and slash or wizened age immediately were graced with her respect. Even the ones who did not return it. She would in turn politely offer a strong retort or dismissal. She would also uphold the same air of indifference to a bad joke or if someone made a comment towards her wretched pet. This smile Draco named Tolerance.

He knew all these things, but still could not understand who she really was. But he knew that there was more to her than her friends, her respect, and her mind. He needed to know them, and despite his initial motivations, he would come to know them at all cost.

His infatuation with her is what brought him to turn coat and fight for the Light. If reforming would teach him the ways of Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy would do it too. And maybe she would have a smile for him. He would name it Love.


	5. Irksome Ice

Title: Irksome Ice  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 503  
Theme: Ice  
Number of Theme's Completed: 9:100  
Rating: G  
Characters: Dee slash Eyche Arr  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. 

Irksome Ice.

It is how Hermione Granger described Draco Malfoy's eye color.

They were not clear, like crystal or an azure sky. But they were not cloudy like the London fog or a steamed mirror. Instead those strange, wicked orbs were steely, silvery, and well, to be fair, sparkly. No matter how much he argued that particular fact.

More importantly, his peculiar eyes were completely irritating. Only because she knew that they conveyed more emotion then were generally attributed with ice. They told of his soul. Warm, playful, hilarious, and suspicious. Yes, suspicious. He did not trust easily. But when he did acquire that level of commitment towards another being, it was forever. His annoying eyes told that as well.

He also could hide behind those eyes. Narrowing them with a dark contempt. Judging and calculating. Always conniving. They became their most cold when he did that. She feared those particular eyes, which left her feeling annoyed and confused, without answers. This is something Hermione was very uncomfortable with. Not knowing or understanding someone or something was not her forte. She was over-analytical by nature. That certain stare oft times sent them into a raging row. Notoriously. After all, it was their thing. It was what they did.

But when he laughed, oh, who knew that those icy orbs could foster such heated thoughts and sensations. A contradictory of terms, but still, it was the reaction she had. Leaving her flustered and breathless. Loss of control was not something that she liked. At all. But found she relished in the liberties it presented. He could be compassionate with little effort. Albeit, many would never guess.

He could glare like no other. His eyes large. Menacing.

Incredibly long lashes.

Causing most to shrink with dread. For his tempter flashed like silver lightening, and bit like artic frost. He was best left alone, because he was quite nefarious when the mood struck him. This could be quite pleasurable in its own right. If one was something of a masochist. Which Hermione found that she undoubtedly was. Once again conflicting. Torrid. Leaving her quite petulant.

They became round and curious when they echoed love. Melting and honest. Bright. She saw everything then, because those stone cold walls were gone. He conveyed his feelings out in the open, for her to tear down or embrace. Always. She never trampled upon his heart. It never occurred to her. Probably because it was only for her, and no other living being saw them in that manner. And well, she loved him too.

Yet, she realized, that his splendid eyes did in fact reflect his personality entirely. Which is why she loved them the most. Because they never lied to her, they challenged her, and could affect her more than any other part of his anatomy. Honest. But to hear her tell it, it would be other, more vulgar assets.

Windows for the soul. Yes. Even exasperating glacial windows. It's how Draco Malfoy made himself known. To those that mattered.


	6. Leather and Lace

Title: Leather and Lace  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 753  
Theme: Lace  
Number of Theme's Completed: 2:100  
Rating: G  
Characters: Hermione, Draco, a bit of Pansy, a bit of Blaise.  
Disclaimer: I own diddly squat. True Story.

Leather and Lace

She was fragile and her heart was hollow. It had been so for years, since she lost the two men she loved most. Harry and Ron. Although not fatally, but to others. Ginny and Lavender. They had moved on and began brand new lives with the women they adored. Hermione couldn't blame them; it was the cycle of life. And although happy for them, their friendship had shattered with broken words. She was lucky if she saw either man once a month.

She tried not to be weak and lonely. She had her work and a nice flat near the Ministry. Pansy Parkinson was her flatmate and best friend, oddly. So Hermione felt her new life was stronger, more so than many guessed. Yet, she carried this weight that something important was missing. Something vital for survival.

That night she was curled up in the window seat, her chenille blanket wrapped around her pajama clad body, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and _Mansfield Park _resting on her bent knees. However, her gaze was overlooking the city, silently searching for that lost piece to her soul.

Hermione didn't budge when she heard the click that signaled Pansy was home from her shift at the Dizzy Snitch.

"Merlin, I thought you'd be out on your night off!" She paused behind the ajar door and pushed her slick black fringe back into her ponytail.

"No, I wanted to relax. Are you going to come in or stare at me?" Hermione grinned and drank from her mug.

"Well, I brought company home…" at this moment Pansy looked into the hallway and giggled.

Realization dripped over Hermione. "Oh, no worries, I was about to head to bed. That way you can have your privacy." She began to situate the blanket in order to stand.

Pansy laughed, "No Herms, join us." And she opened the door wider as Blaise Zabini was revealed.

"Pans, I really don't want to be a third…" Hermione began, but then none other than Draco Malfoy waltzed through and a strange feeling washed over her. It was as if she knew in that moment he would never walk out that door again. She shivered and tightened the blanket around her shoulders. "Wheel."

Pansy retorted, Blaise laughed, but Draco just stared at Hermione. "Hullo Granger." His voice was thick, eyes wide and searching. He seemed to have a spot of trouble breathing.

"Malfoy." Goddess, he was handsome. The years had done him well. He was tall, and tan making his blonde hair radiant. A true Adonis and she had to clutch her mug to her chest, as not to spill her tea.

Draco had not seen Hermione Granger in three years and how she'd changed. She seemed more girlish than she ever had as a girl. Her brown eyes were large and sparkling, youthful. Pretty in that way that said she was didn't realize it. His heart began to race, for he wanted her to light his nights, and he'd be able to get by with his mundane life. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be ordinary with her in it. But then she smiled and blushed. "You're beautiful." he blurted. Because to him she was in that precise moment.

Pansy and Blaise laughed and beckoned them to join them for a round of Gin Rummy in the Kitchen. It broke the spell and both fell back to earth. But throughout the entire game, the pair stole glances and exchanged secret smiles.

Later, after Pansy had retired to her room and Blaise passed out on the couch, Hermione offered for Draco to join her on the window seat.

It began with idle chit-chat. Rather personable, the old "Nice weather innit? Cup of tea? That'd be lovely. How's your Mum? Cheers."

But then, seeing her in the moonlight, with her sleepy eyes, he couldn't help himself, and he leaned forward and softly brushed his lips against hers. He settled back and waited for her reaction.

Hermione savored the softness of the affection, her eyes remained closed and the tingles rolled down her body. She ghosted a deciding grin. When her eyes fluttered open, she said softly. "Stay with me?" and she offered her hand. "Stay."

He nodded and took her palm to lead her to her bedroom. He promised himself, that he never wanted to leave her door again.

_Need you to love me__  
__I need you today__  
__Give to me your leather...__  
__Take from me... my lace___

_Lovers forever... face to face_

A/N: This was a bit of songfic…because the prompt made me think of the song "Leather and Lace" By Stevie Nicks and Don Henley. I hope that's alright. And yes, I stole a line from the Geiko gecko.


	7. Like Water

Title: Like Water  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 500  
Theme: water  
Number of Theme's Completed: 18:100  
Rating: g  
Characters: Draco and Hermione  
Disclaimer: I don't own it. 

_Our love is like water,_

_pinned down and abused for being strange._

_Our love is no other,_

_than me alone for me all day._

_Our love is like water,_

_angels pinned down and abused._

- _All Over You Live_

Sometimes their love was clear and cool, refreshing and clean. Simple, void of complications or dramatics. A normal way of co-existing. A small window in the mornings, as they lay entwined resentful of the day forcing each other from the comfort of their bed, from the safety of arms, and most importantly from each other. Or when they snuggled on the couch, eating popcorn, and watching a flick. No words to be spoken, no worries to fret over, nothing to discuss, not even the weather. Or the moment right before they found sleep, curled against one another, the sheets holding their secrets and promises.

Other times it was filtered and bottled, ready to burst through the plastic packaging. To be uncapped revealing stale and dated replenishment. And when that happened, each refusing to back down or admit they were wrong, it would become the hardest days of their lives. The clipped words, cold-shoulders or complete avoidance. He would throw nasty words at her, breaking her very soul in ways only he could manage. He made her weak and sad, wounding her heart. She would force logic and statistics in his face, pushing him into a corner and bringing out his fierce defense. However, they needed it, to revive, to live, to love each other again, for no matter what was said or done, neither wanted to leave.

Then their love would be dirty, muddied, and scornful. Found foul and disgraced by others. His friends and family begging him to return to being pure and wondering how he could soil his name with the likes of her. No matter what he said to sway them, to make them understand that he just loved her only, completely, they refused to acknowledge her. No invitation to tea or dinner, and it was understood that she was not welcome at any functions whatsoever. This meant he refused the requests also. He would have turned his back on them, if she did not suggest that it would be wrong. Her friends on the other hand merely tolerated him, but he understood their looks, he heard their whispers and it made him angry to know they had no faith in him, that they were suspicious of him and his behavior. There was no trust and he was constantly watched.

It was beautiful and ugly, babbling and quite. Strange and familiar. Unique and common. A contradiction wrapped up with need and want. And like water, they needed their love. To survive, to function properly. It was a daily necessity and both refused to live without. Through the bad times, through the good times and through the scorn. Because it was theirs and it was unlike any other love. When it came to Draco and Hermione it was just a boy and a girl sharing the ultimate emotion, the only way they knew how. Besides, they had knowledge that like water, everybody needed love. So it was not so strange after all. One day, everyone would understand that.


	8. Right Kind of Wrong

Title: The Right Kind of Wrong  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 735  
Theme: Writer's Choice Wrong  
Number of Theme's Completed: 6:100  
Rating: PG  
Characters: The Usual Suspects. Including Keyser Soze  
Disclaimer: I don't anything at all.

**The Right Kind Of Wrong**

Hermione Granger is not a bumbling idiot. Especially when it came to Draco Malfoy. For years, she single-handedly put him in his place, but those days are gone. Now, when he walks into the same room, all her famous cleverness leaves her. Her heart beats loudly in her eardrums and her breath shortens. The room temperature seems to soar, and a fluttering, tingle hits her gut. Much to her displeasure, she becomes incredibly transparent to everyone except him. Or he does not let on about it. In fact, he barely recognizes that she is in the same block as him.

"He's still a bastard, Hermione." Says Harry.

"You deserve better." Says Ronald.

"Merlin, he has a fantastic bum." Says Ginny.

"A right git, that one…" Says George.

"…with a new flavor every week." Says Fred.

So Hermione knows all about him. Her friends are right, naturally, he is something she is better off without. He is still quite the foul, loathsome cockroach she always thought him. He does use women for nothing more than pleasure and has been linked to most of the witches throughout Britain and France. He's arrogant, hateful, and conniving. There really is nothing to like about him. And if Hermione is truthful, she does not even like him. She loves him.

How did it begin? She wasn't sure, perhaps when Harry returned with him after finding the last Horcrux. Or maybe, when she found him sleeping on the sofa at the Burrow. It was really irrelevant, because she currently stood outside his flat, trying to work up the courage to knock.

It was wrong. A mistake. And as she turns to leave, the door opens causing her to freeze dead in her tracks. Feeling that he might have hexed her, but somehow she knows better.

"Hermione?" Says Draco.

She sucks in a breath, and realizes she cannot fight her feelings anymore. Pivoting slowly, she offers a ghost of a smile. "Oh, are you on your way out? " She mentally slaps herself at the absurdity of the question.

Draco raises and eyebrow, but tactfully chooses not to state the obvious. She hadn't knocked, and he is quite surprised to find her in the hall of his building. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione blushes as torrid thoughts rush her brain, and once again, as always, articulation has left her.

"Alright, why are you here then?" He crosses his arms, and lazily leans against the jam.

She blinks and glances at her toes, before returning her eyes to his. "I uh thought we could…because I feel like…and you could help…only if you…" Says she.

"I really hate it when you do that." but he chuckles and smiles at her with something akin to endearment. "But we can, because feel like it too, and I could help. Of course I want to."

She lets a full grin spread her mouth.

"So come in." And he moves, sweeping his arm to usher her in.

She slowly steps over the threshold, and feels his eyes score her body, leaving a wake of goose-bumps.

Suddenly, her courage returns, and she spins, grasping his face in her palms, and crushes her mouth to his. His lips are soft and encouraging, and his hands roughly grip her flush against his tall frame. Waves of pleasure ripple over her and lightning strikes her gut. And then she's lost. She's never felt this way before and knows she probably won't ever again. As his tongue ravishes hers edaciously, she feels naughty, sexy, and right. Everything she knows she's not.

He breaks from her gasping, "I'll not shag you here."

"I shouldn't want to do this with you." Says a husky womanly voice that Hermione barely recognizes as her own.

"Oh, but you will. " Says he devilishly, before he sweeps her into his arms.

And she did.

"He'll never commit to you." Says Harry.

"He isn't good enough for you." Says Ron.

"So, is he well endowed?" Says Ginny.

"If he ever cheats on you…" Says George.

"…we will gladly dispose of him discreetly." Says Fred.

Her friends may not approve of her relationship with Draco Malfoy. They are sure it's a heartbreak situation. Yet, it's been three months, and although he never promises anything, she knows she cannot leave him to save her heart. She needs him. She loves him. Why? He's the right kind of wrong.


	9. Summer

Title: Summer  
Author: **emm718**  
Word Count: 701  
Theme: Summer  
Number of Theme's Completed: 1:100  
Rating: pg  
Characters: Draco/ Hermione  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the summertime.

Summer

She laughed infectiously at him and he had to force a scowl to his brow. He really did not find the situation humorous, but when she giggled so, it was difficult not to join her. Besides, she was laughing at him, and he did not care for it. At all.

"Come along, Draco. It's far too bloody hot to sit under the tree and brood." Hermione said matter-of-factly, grinning widely.

Draco snorted. "I'm not brooding!" and he looked away from her because the sight of her caramelized skin slick and cool was more than his body and mind could handle.

Hermione studied the pale young man under the shade of the green leaves. His smooth alabaster skin was tinged a rosy iridescence. To her, he appeared positively pitiful and miserable. She chuckled and brought her hands together in an effort to appease his discomfort. With a forceful shove, requiring all her weight, her intentions found their mark with large glistening drops.

As the cold pond water splashed across his bare chest, Draco yelped and instantly sprang to his feet. It _was_ refreshing and surprising, but he would never tell her. "I'll get you for that, Granger!" He narrowed his grey eyes in a way he thought menacing.

She simply shrugged, unfazed. "That would mean you'd have to face the cruel sunshine. Merlin forbid it darkens that lovely Malfoy pallor." and with a heavenward eye roll, her sarcasm was lost as she slipped under the surface.

Draco shook his head, convinced she would never understand, and relaxed against the trunk once more. His lashes came to rest upon his cheeks and he tried to imagine a place cooler than the stifling heat of the summer shade. It was no use, as it was ever oppressing and unavoidable. Suddenly he sat up and glanced around. The small pond was still and quiet. Too quiet. Eerie really. Because Hermione had not resurfaced.

"Granger?" His eyes scanned the tranquil water for the slightest movement. He stood quickly. "Hermione?" His voice stronger than before.

Nothing.

Draco took a step closer to the edge of the bank. "Come off it Granger, I'm not amused!"

And yet, nothing.

He swore and jammed his fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. He peaked at the shade tree once more before he dove off the bank.

The chill of the water shocked his system pleasantly. He let his fingers drag the slimy bottom as his lithe form cut quickly through the depths. His eyes were wide, darting, and impatient. When he lungs felt like they would explode from lack of oxygen he shot for the surface.

He gulped a lungful of air, took a quick gaze around, and ducked back under.

This time his mouth was covered with another's. Stupidly, his lips opened to protest and a tongue pushed inside to wrestle with his own. With realization and relief, he tasted the bitter pond water and the sweetness that was Hermione. The delightful tension struck his gut and surrender gripped his heart. Cogently, he pulled her body against his, tangled his fingers in her mossy hair, and plundered her mouth with every emotion in his soul.

Lost as they both were, neither realized that their weightless forms were rising to the surface due to all the air stored in their lungs. Abruptly, with a flourish of bubbles and a gurgling sound, Hermione darted upward, slipping sweetly from Draco's grip. He quickly followed.

"You…sneaky…witch!" he panted desperately. His ribs aching from lack of air. "Think drowning a funny joke, do you?"

And she chortled again. "Of course not!" she said indignantly. "But it did get you to join me for a swim." and she wrapped her legs and arms around his bobbing form. A mischievous grin spread her tanned face.

"Hellcat." He muttered, but a knowing smirk quirked his mouth, and desire lit his eyes. "I believe you have a bit of Slytherin in you." and he clamped his mouth to hers once more.

"Mmmm, but I'd like a _lot_ more." She blushed modestly at her innuendo.

Draco did not need to be told twice and decided that it was the best way to cool off on a hot, summer day.


End file.
